Chapter 11
Chains and Tales
Danae noticed the smell first. The air was stifling with the scent of overripe produce and rotting spice. And something else, something bitter and human. Then came the pain, blossoming from her left temple and pulsing its way across her skull.
Slowly, she opened her eyes. It was dark.
The only source of light shone weakly through one slit of a window.
Filthy straw lined the floor. She became aware of something hard and cold on her skin.
She looked down and saw an iron cuff secured around both wrists.
It was chained to a metal loop screwed into the wall.
She twisted her hands, searching for any weakness in the chain.
But the harder she tugged, the deeper the metal bit into her skin.
A clink at the other end of the room startled her. She squinted through the gloom and saw that she was not alone. There were others, attached to the same long chain, bolted at intervals around the walls.
“The new girl’s awake.”
A man sat against the wall to her right. He was shrouded in shadow except for a sliver of light across his tanned, bearded face.
“Where am I?” Her voice was hoarse, her mouth parched.
“Port holding cell.”
“How long have I... ?”
“A few hours, give or take.”
She ran her hands under the hem of her tunic and was relieved to feel the bronze owl. She mumbled a silent “thank-you” to the gods for giving her the foresight to conceal the brooch before arriving in Phalerum.
She glanced back at the bearded man. He was watching her. She twitched her hands away from her clothing.
“What happens now?”
The bearded man shrugged. “We wait until someone takes us to market and if we’re lucky we might get a bit of food in the meantime.”
The word “market” sent a shiver down her spine.
“The flesh market?”
The bearded man tilted his head. “A word of advice, keep quiet and don’t anger the guards.”
She swallowed. It was a bit late for that.
She was acutely aware of the others listening to their conversation.
As her eyes grew accustomed to the dim light, she tried to make them out.
To her left was an elderly woman with wispy white hair.
Opposite was a boy who looked a few years younger than her.
His legs were folded into his chest, his face half hidden behind his knees.
Next to him was a man with the shaved head and red kilt of a Spartan soldier. His skin was a patchwork of scars.
Footsteps echoed from somewhere outside the room, accompanied by the jangle of keys. Danae shuffled into the shadows as far as her chain would allow.
The heavy wooden door creaked open, and a thickset guard stepped into the room, carrying a pail of water. Some of the prisoners stretched toward it. The vice of panic around Danae’s chest eased slightly.
“Get back!” he snarled and aimed a kick at the old woman. She shrank away from the guard, but her eyes never left the bucket. At the sound of the sloshing water, Danae’s mouth ached.
The guard moved around the room, pouring water from a roughly hewn cup straight into the waiting mouths. He took little care, often spilling the liquid over their faces.
When he finally reached Danae, the guard paused, the cup poised tantalizingly over the pail.
She waited, longing for the sweet taste of the water.
The guard continued to stare at her. Then, to her relief, his hand dipped into the bucket and a full cup was drawn out.
She opened her mouth. Before it reached her, the guard flicked his wrist and the water splashed onto the floor.
Without pausing to think, she lunged forward, licking the dirt between the straw, desperate to catch the liquid before it was absorbed.
The guard laughed and kicked her in the gut. Spittle and grime flew from her mouth as the breath was punched from her.
“Filthy bitch.” He spat on her and walked away, the pound and jangle of his footsteps echoing in her ears long after the door slammed behind him.
She stayed where she’d fallen, each breath a sharp spasm of pain.
“You’re lucky.”
It took Danae a moment to realize the bearded man was speaking to her.
“Another guard came when you were out cold.”
She felt sick. It had nothing to do with the pain in her stomach.
“Terribly angry he was. Going on about wanting to settle the score and so on...” He paused. “Would have done it too, if the fat one hadn’t stopped him.”
Danae raised her head to look at the man. He was twirling a piece of straw between his dirty fingers.
“Not allowed to damage the goods you see. A few bruises are to be expected, but no one wants to buy a sullied slave.”
She curled her legs into her chest, tugging the hem of her tunic down as far as it would stretch, and turned away from the bearded man. She didn’t want him to see her cry.
From the smatterings of conversation, Danae gathered most of the others had been in the cell for at least a few days. The boy had arrived just before her.
“What’s your name, lad?” asked the bearded man.
The boy sniffed. “Lycon.”
“Where are you from, Lycon?”
The boy’s pink tear-stained face appeared from behind his knees. “Crete.”
“Are you now? I’ve heard it’s a beautiful island. Some say the finest in all of Greece.”
Lycon nodded, a hint of a smile tugging his mouth. The bearded man’s tone was friendly, but he reminded Danae of a mountain lion playing with its food.
“Are you old enough to remember the Minotaur?”
The boy shook his head. Despite her foreboding, Danae was intrigued.
“The old King of Athens used to send fourteen children, just like you, from Athens to Knossos every year. Their parents would dress them up in their finest clothes like it was a feast day—well in a way I suppose it was.” He chuckled.
“Then they would be sent over the sea to Crete and be paraded through the city to the palace. Do you know what happened next?”
Lycon shook his head.
“Autolycus, leave the boy alone,” said the old woman.
The bearded man ignored her. “They were fed to the creature that lived in the labyrinth below the palace. A terrible beast, with the body of a man and the head of a bull, always thirsty for human blood. The children would scream and scream but no one—”
“Oh, be quiet!” The old woman shook her head.
Autolycus looked hurt. “I’m only trying to cheer the boy up by reminiscing about his home.
Such a lovely island. I, for one, have fond memories of the yearly sacrifice.
” He sighed. “Until our most noble and righteous king slaughtered the monster and put a stop to it. Shame really, it would have been much more fun if the Minotaur had killed Theseus.”
Lycon started to cry again.
“You’ll get us all put to death with that kind of talk,” muttered the old woman.
Autolycus laughed. “We’re as good as dead already.”
Danae hoped he was joking.
Suddenly, the Spartan soldier jerked into motion. He grasped the chain either side of him and whipped it against the floor with an echoing clang.
“Enough.” His voice was rusty from disuse.
They all fell silent.
Danae had heard tales of the Spartan army. Wild stories from farmhands and fishermen’s sons. It was said they took boys from their families aged seven to start training. At ten, to weed out any weakness in their ranks, they were paired against each other and forced to fight to the death.
There was no more talk that night. She was glad at least that Autolycus left her alone. She was in no mood to be toyed with.
As the hours stretched on, she couldn’t tell if the gnawing in her stomach was from bruising or hunger. She thought of home, of her father. Silently, she begged the gods to spare him punishment for her escape.
She pushed the memory of Arius being taken, the image of her sister’s drowned body and the terrible look in her mother’s eyes into a deep hole and imagined piling boulders on top.
She couldn’t let herself dwell on those thoughts.
If she did, she would shatter, and she didn’t think she’d be able to piece herself back together again.
I will make it to Delphi. I will find a way.
She chanted the words over and over in her mind, until eventually she fell asleep.
“Psst.”
Danae curled her arms around her head.
“Pssssssst.”
Groaning, she rolled over. “What?”
Autolycus grinned. In the morning light, she noticed he was missing several teeth.
“I want to know your name.”
She eyed him warily, but supposed it couldn’t do much harm, and if she told him he might leave her alone.
“Danae.”
“Ah, Danae.” He rolled her name around his mouth like it was a fine wine.
“There was another by that name once. She was beautiful, they say. A princess so radiant, her father locked her in a bronze chamber deep beneath the earth, safe from the gaze of men. It was prophesied his grandson would kill him, you see, so he did everything in his power to prevent her conceiving a child. But Zeus had already spied her with his eagle eye. And no walls of bronze or stone can keep a god from what he desires.”
He stared at her. She blinked.
“But you look nothing like her, so I doubt you’ll have that problem.”
She huffed a sigh through her nose. “What do you want?”
The playful glint vanished from Autolycus’s eyes. “Eternal life.”
They were interrupted by the rattle of keys.
The cell door creaked open. Straw crunched underfoot, and two new men accompanied the plump guard into the room.
One was slight with small, darting eyes and a scraggly beard.
He was dressed in a navy traveling cloak and carried a whip strapped to his waist. His companion was large and muscular.
Scars decorated his meaty forearms. He shadowed the smaller man, right hand never leaving the handle of his sword.
“What do you think, Kakos?” said the guard.
The slight man’s gaze slid from one captive to another, all the while fingering his whip. The hairs on Danae’s neck prickled as his gaze lingered on her.
“I’ll take them all.”
Kakos passed a pouch of coins to the guard. He weighed it in his hand before swiftly pocketing it.
Kakos’s lips stretched back to reveal yellowing teeth. “Time to go to market.” He snapped his fingers. “Bring them.”
The guard moved around the cell, detaching the chain from the iron rings. Once his task was complete, he clapped his hands.
“You heard him. Outside!”
Danae hesitantly pushed herself to her feet, taking comfort from the weight of Alea’s brooch against her thigh. She wondered if she could use the pin to pick the lock of her cuff once they were outside.
The line jerked, and she stumbled forward. Not fast enough.
The large man grabbed her arm. She winced as his thick fingers crushed yesterday’s bruises.
“Move,” he snarled, yanking her out into the corridor.
As they shuffled along, she could see more of the building they’d been held in. It had low ceilings with doors at intervals along the right of the passage. At the far end, the stone wall was replaced by iron bars encasing the final room.
Confiscated wares were stacked floor to ceiling.
There were crates of fruit and vegetables in a rainbow of colors, including an orange fruit covered in spines Danae had never seen before.
Disordered amphorae of oils and wines lay on the floor with sacks of grain slopping over them.
A pair of ruby earrings glinted between a stack of ceramic plates, and backed into the far corner was a human-sized statue of the goddess Aphrodite.
A sword dangled from a scabbard slung over her outstretched arm, and a jumble of bright silks was wound around her neck.
It was jarring to see the statue of a goddess treated in such a careless way.
A small black pot at Aphrodite’s feet caught her eye.
It was cracked down one side, but the emblem was still visible, a painted tree, its twisted branches bowed low with fruit.
Danae stared at the pieces of gold leaf pressed onto each tiny apple.
Her skin tingled. Then the chain pulled taut, and she was forced to move on.
The large man herded them into the belly of a wagon and bolted the door behind them. Danae scrambled onto her knees and held on to the iron bars of the window, pressing her face against the cold metal. She shuddered as the wagon moved, and the world outside leaped with each stone under wheel.
“Where are they taking us?”
“Didn’t you hear the man?” said Autolycus. “Flesh market.”
“I know, but where?”
Autolycus laughed. “Athens, of course.”
Danae peeled her face away from the bars. She was going to Athens. She felt a ripple of hope. Athens was one of the largest cities in Greece—there must be people traveling to and from Delphi every day. If she could somehow escape at the other end, she could still reach the holy city.